The Longest Half
by magentamom
Summary: My backstory for Bogg and why he avoids kids and so forth. And also some sad but interesting history coming here, I hope. :
1. Chapter 1

Oct. 14, 1890, Denison Texas

Phineas lay back in the bed in the small hotel room, picturing tiny Dwight David Eisenhower. The baby had no idea how much trouble he'd been to bring into the world. And he thought of Mabel and Alec and the children they would have.

He found sleeping difficult but finally dropped off.

He recognized the dream when it started and knew he should force himself awake. But it was so nice to see her again, and he was so tired.

_Dec. 29, 1640 Bristol, England_

"_More wassailing in just two eves, husband," said the pretty woman, girl really, by the fire. "But we'll have to wait a bit longer for our Twelfth Night gift"_

_She stood, patting her rounded form and smiling._

"_A fine son will be worth the wait," the very young man looked up with his pale blue eyes, which were shining._

"_It might be a lass, you know, Phin," she said laughing._

"_If it were, she would doubtless be the fairest in England, Mary" he said. "But it's a lad."_

_She laughed again and returned to the meal. There was meat tonight, as it was still Christmastide. Phineas worked repairing a handle for a plow. Winter work was tedious, but it had to be done._

_Mary made a strange noise and Phineas looked up from the work. She was standing, looking frightened, and Phineas saw the blood on the floor rushes._

"_Mary," he moved toward her._

"_Phineas, get your mother and the midwife," she said, clutching her abdomen. "I can get to the bed, but the babe. Please hurry."_

_He ran from the house, returning as quickly as he could with the two women. He heard screaming from the bedroom and ran toward the door. His mother held him back._

" '_Tis women's work, Phineas Bogg. We'll see to her and the babe."_

_She looked at his stricken face. "If you want to help, fetch water and heat it."_

_He realized that although he was an 18-year-old awaiting his own child, he'd been given a meaningless task to keep him from underfoot. But he was glad to have something to do._

_When he returned with the water, he heard an agonized cry from the room. Mother's orders or no, he threw open the door and saw the midwife holding an impossibly small infant, who gave a weak cry._

_There was blood everywhere, it seemed. _

"_Meggie, is there time for the priest?" he heard his mother say._

"_No, Pru, I am sorry. Bring me the Holy Water from my kit," she said, wiping the child's tiny forehead._

"_A name, Phineas, had you agreed on the name?" he heard his mother ask, but it sounded far away. He couldn't understand._

"_Geoffrey then, Meg, for the lass's father," Prudence Bogg pronounced. "She would like that."_

_He heard the midwife mutter, "Geoffrey, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost" as she dropped water onto the baby's head._

_She carried the infant to him. It fit in one of his large hands, and he stroked a cheek with the other. "He won't be to limbo, Phineas. It was in time, and without a priest available I have the authority. You will see him in Paradise with you come time," the old woman said._

_He just stared at her wondering how that was possibly supposed to comfort him. By then, the infant had ceased in its struggle for breath. Phineas laid him down next to Mary and kissed them both. He looked at the room and saw no need to ask after how his wife had fared._

_And suddenly, in the midst of the blood, he saw another child with dark curls and wide brown eyes._

Oct. 15, 1890

Bogg sat upright, kicking his legs straight out and knocking Jeffrey from the foot of the bed where he'd been sleeping.

"Ow, Bogg," the boy yelped, sitting up groggily and rubbing his elbow.

Bogg spoke so quietly, Jeff could hardly hear him, "I'm sorry, kid. Bad dream."

"Must have been some dream," Jeff said. "I'm lucky you didn't kick me into the next room."

He moved toward the man, and as he approached, Bogg grabbed him tightly in his arms. The man was shaking.

"Bogg, I was kidding. I'm fine. I only fell like 3 feet. We've had worse landings."

"Yeah, I know," Bogg replied, but he didn't let go of the boy.

"Bogg, are you OK?" Jeff asked. "Can I do anything?"

"Just stay here for a few minutes, please," Bogg said. "I'll be OK."

Bogg lay back in the bed, and Jeff returned the embrace. The man's breathing was shallow, and he was soaked with sweat. But Jeff understood about nightmares, so he just lay there quietly, offering what comfort he could.

Bogg thought back. He had joined a crew the very day of the funeral and never returned to Bristol. And from his days as a pirate to his days as a Voyager, he had been very careful. No real relationships or commitments, no one who could tear his heart out from his very core. Until now.


	2. Chapter 2

May 24, 1910 Bristol, England

The omni dropped them in a cemetery, and all Bogg could think was that this was not the day.

"Creepy," Jeff said, standing to look around. A chill went down his spine, as he looked at the battered, weathered stone in front of him. "Oh, creepier, this headstone says Phineas Bogg."

Bogg felt a sense of dread as he pulled out the omni. "May 24, 1910," he said, almost choking as he added, "Bristol, England."

"1622 to circa 1646," Jeff read. "Son, husband, father."

"Drop it, Jeff," Bogg said.

"I'm sorry, Bogg. I guess I'd be weirded out if I saw my name on a tombstone, too," Jeff said. "But it's not like it's yours."

Phineas just looked at him.

"It is?" Jeff asked.

"Might be. The dates are right. My mother would have, if she were notified. I don't know. I never came back. Who knows what they buried, a hat, my saber, some other body. Scientific identification wasn't exactly a factor. Maybe it gave her some comfort, though," Bogg said. "There's no one to save here; let's go find the red light."

Jeff ran after him. "But, Bogg, you never told me you were married."

"Long time ago," Bogg said.

"You're not old enough for it to be that long," Jeff said. "What happened?"

"She died," Bogg said. "I left. End of story now. Can we drop it?"

"But, Bogg, it said 'father.' I know you wouldn't have left your kid. You didn't leave me, and I'm not even yours."

Out of the cemetery, Bogg collapsed onto a bench and let Jeff sit next to him. The kid wasn't going to let this go.

"You are in here," Bogg said gesturing to his heart. "But you're right; I'd never have left my son. He died after just a few minutes."

"Oh," Jeff said quietly. "What was his name?"

"Geoffrey, for Mary's father," Bogg said his voice barely audible.

Jeff looked a bit stunned as that registered, and he hugged his mentor. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I've never told anyone since I left Bristol," Bogg said. "So you can count yourself as the first."

Jeffrey continued to hold onto Bogg. He considered that while he'd often thought that the omni had given him a friend and guardian when he needed one he'd never once considered Bogg needed anyone, not really.

"I'm sorry, Bogg," Jeff said quietly.

"It's OK. You saw my tombstone," Bogg said. "It's natural to ask. And maybe it's better you knew.

"I know you think sometimes I'm too protective, Jeff," Bogg said, tears in his eyes as he held Jeff more tightly. "I know what it's like to lose a child, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, too, and those times I thought I had …"

"You won't," Jeff said, feeling strange at having to reassure Bogg rather than receiving reassurance.


	3. Chapter 3

May 24, 1910 Bristol, England

"Bogg, let's find somewhere to stay, first," Jeffrey said. "I know we need to find the red light, but …"

"Yeah, I am kind of dead," Bogg said.

"Bogg, that's not funny!" Jeff scolded. "Seriously, a little bit of rest before we find trouble wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"No, I guess not, Mother Hen," Bogg said, rubbing the boy's head. "I'll defer to you on this one. I'll admit I am tired."

In reality, Bogg felt as exhausted and drained as he'd been since he and Jeff had gotten back into the field. But Jeff was obviously scared and concerned enough, and Bogg wanted to keep things light and prevent the boy from worrying more.

As they searched for lodgings, they came upon an inn, and Bogg laughed. "This was here even when I was."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. I spent some memorable evenings …" Bogg paused. Those stories should wait until the boy was older. Perhaps until he was older than Bogg was now. "Never mind. I'm sure it's very changed. Let's see if they have a room."

"The Hatchet? Sounds charming," Jeff grumbled.

"Back in the day, the lumberers were regulars," Bogg said. "It's not anything creepy at all, unless you're a tree."

"Oh," Jeff said. He was not used to being on Bogg's turf instead of his own.


	4. Chapter 4

May 24, 1910 Bristol, England, The Hatchet

They settled into the room, and Bogg laughed as Jeff insisted he have the bed. But he was too exhausted to argue long.

"OK, OK, I'll get some rest," Bogg said. "You, too. You can't have had much sleep given that I literally kicked you out of bed, and you're short enough for the cot. We'll get some sleep and then look around."

Jeff nodded. He spread a blanket over Bogg and then went to the cot, removed his sneakers and stretched out.

He waited until Bogg's breath was deep and even. Then Jeffrey pulled on his sneakers and left a note, slipping from the room. Bogg was usually a light sleeper, and Jeff didn't even exhale until he had closed the door. But his partner was clearly overwhelmed by the events of the past few days and slept on.

"Good," Jeff thought. "I can get a start on this red light and get us out of here sooner. It's not a good place for him."

He felt a bit guilty thinking that Bogg might have a nightmare and have no one close by, but the man seemed to be sleeping soundly. Jeff had found exhaustion usually made him safe from the dreams. Sometimes, before Bogg, it was what had kept him going at all. It was funny to think that he'd slept better in some of the strange accommodations he'd had in the past year than he had in a Manhattan apartment, but it was true.

Jeff grinned that for once he could help Bogg instead of vice versa and headed out to Frogmore Street to see what he could find out about this red light.


	5. Chapter 5

May 24, 1910 Bristol, England, The Hatchet

Bogg smiled at Jeff's concern as he awoke a few hours later, realizing that he'd actually been tucked in.

Thinking about his wife and child could still cut him to the quick. He should have shared with Jeff sooner, but the kid had his own tragedy to deal with, and Bogg was unfamiliar with sharing his.

He'd never talked to anyone about that part of his life, and he hadn't had a nightmare for years, until Mabel and seeing that baby who might not have survived.

He found he felt better having shared at least part of the story. He realized in trying to shield himself these years that he'd almost been denying Mary and Geoffrey had ever existed. But they had, and he loved them and was glad that he had shared them with this new family.

"Of course, I always tell Jeff he should talk about it," Bogg thought. "Guess I should listen to my own advice sometimes."

He sat up and looked over at the cot, and the good feelings drained away. He saw a note.

"Went to scope things out. Back later. Jeff," Bogg read. He shook his head. There were days that he wished he could trade a few of Jeffrey's spare IQ points to give the kid an ounce of common sense.

"Sure, Jeff, I share with you that I'm terrified of losing you and why, so you wander into the streets of a strange city on your own and without the omni," Bogg muttered aloud. "That'll help."

At that moment, Bogg didn't feel worried as much as amused. Jeffrey was so smart that it was easy to forget he was 12 until kid logic displayed itself in ways like this. Bogg was touched that Jeff figured he was the clear-headed one and wanted to protect his guardian. He was such a special kid, and Phineas felt privileged to have him in his life, even if it did break every rule he'd made for himself when he left Bristol in grief all those years ago.

And the kid did have a good head on his shoulders when it came to it, but Bogg had no way to know where to find him. This left him at something of loose ends, as he tried to decide whether to attempt to find the boy with no clear direction or hang tight until he returned.


	6. Chapter 6

May 24, 1910, Frogmore Street, Bristol, England

Jeff wandered through the neighborhood, probably not the town's best, and noticed a group of kids playing soccer – or, Jeff corrected himself, football.

The goalie was a tenacious little guy, probably no more than six and wearing a suit with short pants. His light brown eyes held ferocity. He was too small to really be effective in the role, but no one could deny he was trying his best.

The other boys, being boys, just laughed as the boy missed the ball going into the goal. Jeff sympathized. He remembered being laughed at now and then for missing an easy hit in Little League. Kids were apparently the same everywhere.

The boy's team gave a cheer as he flew through the air to block the next attempted goal. He showed a broad grin and clearly basked in the positive attention.

As the ball he deflected traveled outside the chalk lines marking the goal, it hit and shattered a nearby window. The other boys ran as the irate owner ran from the store. The small boy looked terrified and froze where he stood.

The owner came over and struck the boy hard on the side of his head, and Jeff ran over.

"Sir, it was just an accident," Jeff said quickly. "He didn't mean to."

The man reached over to slap Jeff, who quickly ducked out of the way.

"Look, mister, that's unnecessary," he said indignantly. "You can't just go around hitting kids."

"I can if they damage my property, you insolent brat," the man said, attempting to grab Jeff's arm.

Jeff again moved out of the way and reached out his hand to pull the smaller boy behind him. The boy looked grateful.

"It was an accident. It's not like he intentionally broke the window," Jeff said.

"Then he should have more care!" the man yelled, finally catching Jeff by the arm and slapping him hard against the face.

Suddenly, there was a woman's voice.

"Sir, I'm sure these lads meant no harm," she said. "I will see to them."

"And who will see to my window?" the man asked.

"Unfortunately, they do seem to be without supervision, so I cannot tell you that," the woman said. "However, I promise you that I will see they do no further damage. I'm from the Middlemore Home, and we help unfortunates such as this.

"Perhaps you can be so gracious as to allow me to take them under our supervision."

The man grunted. "I suppose it's the best I can hope for that at least these two won't make any further trouble on this street. Tired of these urchins."

He reached out to slap Jeff again, but the child ducked out of the way.


	7. Chapter 7

May 24, 1910, Frogmore Street, Bristol, England

"Thanks, ma'am," Jeff said to the woman who had stepped into the dispute with the store owner. "It was just an accident. I saw the whole thing."

Agatha Roylott looked at the boys. The older was fit and clearly agile and able. A farm family would find good use for him. The younger had an undeniable and almost irresistible charm that made him a fine candidate for adoption.

"Of course and now let us get you out of the streets," she said. "We have shelter and beds for you both. You need not fear. You will be taken care of now."

Jeff paused.

"I'm not here alone, you know," he said. "My dad is here, too. We're just visiting Bristol."

The small boy spoke up, as well, "My mam is surely looking for me. She is going to be angry I am gone so long."

"Yes, every vagrant child has a story about their parents. Orphans or worse. There is no reason to be frightened. You will come with me to Middlemore," the woman said.

"I'm not a vagrant," Jeff said angrily. "I was just trying to protect this little guy."

"I am Archie," piped up a small voice. "Archie Leach, and I have parents! They are going to be angry."

The woman, recognizing Jeffrey would easily be able to break from her grasp, took the smaller boy by the arm.

"As I said, every child says this. I am to see you to Middlemore and make sure you find happier lives and make no more trouble here. We will educate you and find you fine families."

"Look, lady, we've both told you, we have families," Jeffrey yelled. "What is your problem?"

"If you have families, they clearly are neglectful ones to allow you to wander the streets and damage property," Roylott said. "We can do better through Middlemore."

Jeff wanted to break away, but he knew, in his gut, that this Archie was the red light and was reluctant to leave. He suddenly wished he hadn't decided to leave Bogg with no idea where to find him.

But he squared his shoulders. He'd been on his own before and done all right. This one was for Bogg, so that he didn't have to worry so much.

He laid a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder and received a smile. He was glad he could offer some comfort in this strange situation.


	8. Chapter 8

May 24, 1910 Bristol, England, The Hatchet

Bogg's natural impatience didn't allow him to wait around long. Within 15 minutes, he'd scrawled a note: "Jeff, if you're back before me STAY HERE. I mean it. Stay in the room.

He considered a moment.

"I love you, and I worry. Bogg."

He'd rarely said that quite so straight out before, certainly not in writing. But it felt right for the circumstances. Maybe the shock alone would make Jeff realize he meant it and encourage the boy to actually stay put. Bogg had said as much when Jeff was recovering from his injuries in London and they had been separated by headquarters, but it was different.

Bogg knew Jeffrey had found comfort in the words and that he believed them, but he wasn't sure Jeff knew they applied to all the time rather than just in the difficult situation in which they found themselves as the trial revolved around Drake's murder attempt on the child.

Jeffrey was remarkable but still fragile about attachment. Bogg often wondered if a pirate who had so long wanted to be alone was sufficient to reassure him. He more often wondered how he'd become a man who wanted to, but he could not deny he had.

As mystified and awed as he had been at becoming a Voyager, he found being a guardian as surprising. He was grateful for both, even if he sometimes felt insufficient to the responsibilities. He hoped Jeffrey never realized that there were times he just wanted to curl up and cry, although he suspected the kid might have pieced that together by now.

There was never time for that, though. And certainly not now, with Jeff out on the streets of Bristol in 1910, no omni and yet doubtlessly, Bogg knew, somehow still gravitating toward that red light.

Bogg headed downstairs to see if the clerk might have noticed the boy.

The clerk shrugged. "Lots of boys around here," he said. "Dark hair and curls, enh, nothing special for us. Lots of boys."

Bogg wanted to shake the man. Jeff was special. But he knew the clerk meant no harm. He wasn't even going for the better tip to offer information. Young boys came and went through this section of the city, making no impression by design. Bogg knew that Jeff would not have tried to call attention to himself. The boy was a born Voyager that way. You called attention to yourself only when it was necessary to repair history, otherwise you tried to stay out of the way. And, if, as Jeff said he was just "scoping it out," then he would have blended in as best he could.

"Anything to see around here?" Bogg followed up.

"Not really," the clerk said. "Your stores, your factories – glass is a specialty, the docks. We're not London, honed for tourists and the like. Hard-working people here."

"Yeah, I remember," Bogg whispered.

"You?" the clerk laughed. "You sound from the Americas, and they think they work harder than any of us. I know. Maybe that's what you're remembering now that you're a tourist. But I'll have you know, we work every bit as much, and a man like you here couldn't afford to be a tourist there."

Bogg just nodded. It was certainly not a situation he could explain. And he was more concerned at the fact that he had no more hint as to where to find Jeff than he'd had before and little prospect of finding more. The clerk, sadly, had been his best bet.

As he had told Jeff, though, revolutions tended to find Voyagers, as did red lights. So maybe he'd find it, too.

He felt a sense of dread, as finding red lights didn't always end well for Voyagers, especially those trapped without an omni.

"Please, Dan, Jeptha," he thought, "be watching my kid. And God, please protect him.

"I'm not sure what I'd do …"

Bogg cut off the thought. No point in that.


	9. Chapter 9

May 24, 1910, Middlemore House, Bristol, England

Jeff followed somewhat reluctantly as the woman guided them to a large building. He was pleased it wasn't the Dickensian nightmare he had feared. It was clean and well kept, and as Agatha Roylott led them to the dormitory, he noted there were fresh sheets and pillows.

Still, Jeff noted, it was walled and guarded. It wouldn't be easy to sneak out of here. He was definitely starting to wonder what he'd been thinking and wishing he'd waited for Bogg. He suddenly realized that if he couldn't get back by dark that Bogg would worry and thought back to the conversation from earlier in the day. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, too …" Bogg had said. Surely Bogg would know he was OK, though, Jeff thought. Then he realized how he felt when Bogg left him behind to find a red light. He felt guilty as he realized this adventure had not been his best thinking.

"But I'll find you, or you'll find me," Jeff thought hard, closing his eyes and trying to project it to his mentor. "You're not going to lose me, even if you wanted to."

"You will sleep here," Roylott said to Jeff, shaking him out of his thoughts. "You, the older boy, what was your name?"

"Jeffery Jones, ma'am. And really, I understand that you think …"

"You will be happy when we find you a home in Canada, with fresh air and hard work to occupy you rather than breaking windows here in the city," she said. "It is a sad thing that children like you are left to roam the streets."

"I was not left to roam the streets! I went on my own. If anything it's my fault, but I have a family!" he cried. "Why aren't you listening?"

"Young man, I am listening, and I have heard every story. It is usual you do not wish to admit you are alone in the world. Now, let me show your companion where he is to sleep."

"He's not staying with me? Or nearby?" Jeff asked. Archie looked scared enough, and was clinging to Jeff's arm. "You're scaring him."

She put a hand on the younger boy's shoulder.

"There is no reason for you to fear, lad," she said. "You will doubtless find a loving family. A charming young child."

Jeff almost laughed. Apparently, at 12, he was past shelf date for whatever this system was, as it was clear he was supposed to embrace the life of farm labor. At least Archie was getting the promise of a real family. But Jeffrey knew it was at the expense of his actual family, his country and his destiny. Because he had no doubt that whatever Archie Leach was supposed to do it didn't involve emigration to Canada before he was out of short pants.

And Jeffrey's destiny wasn't to be lost in time on a voyage to Canada, either. And no matter if he'd messed up in leaving in the first place, he was here now, facing the red light. He'd have to deal with it as best he could.

The woman led Archie off and said that they should see each other in the morning. So, at least, Jeff thought, the mission wasn't entirely a failure, yet.

Archie Leach. The name seemed vaguely familiar. For now, they clearly weren't headed for a ship to Canada, so Jeff had time to think. He supposed he should try to sleep, but it was difficult knowing that he had a job to do and moreover that Bogg was likely looking for him.

He was plotting ways to get away, but then he'd be leaving Archie. Being a Voyager was about hard choices, he supposed, and his gut told him to stay. It also told him Bogg was worried, though. So, maybe he should try to leave.

He lay back on the bed trying to decide what to do, and having slept only a few hours out of the past 36, Jeff dropped off despite his muddle of thoughts.


	10. Chapter 10

May 24, 1910, Frogmore Street, Bristol, England

It was already nearly dark when Bogg left the hotel and started looking. He hoped that Jeff had the sense to return to the room as dusk fell.

There were streetlights, of course, but nothing to make for an easy search. Bogg roamed aimlessly, hoping to catch sight of the boy, asking passers-by. No one had seen him, or if they had, they had no recollection. As the clerk had said, lots of boys around here.

If Jeff had any serious injuries, though, Bogg knew headquarters would recall the boy and him. So, for now, at least, Jeff must be relatively safe. Bogg kept reassuring himself of that and trying to take deep breaths. After the past few days, he worried he might just go into a panic, and that would help no one.

There was nothing to do at this point except go back to the room and hope Jeff had returned. On arriving, Bogg looked at the empty space and punched the wall, tears running down his face. "I'll find you, or you'll find me," he thought, almost as if he heard a voice in his head reassuring him. It helped a little, but the past several days had just been too much. He ripped a towel in two, dipped half in the cool water of the basin in the room and wrapped it around his bruised hand. Then he fell back on the bed.

He lay there awake for hours before his exhaustion won out. But even in that, he dreamt of Jeff falling from the window, but Bogg couldn't catch the boy before he hit the ground. There was a broken body, and a sneaker off to the side. Bogg slept on, even as he wept.

He was up before dawn and lit the oil lamp in the room. He splashed water on his face, extinguished the lamp and headed out of the room back to Frogmore Street, hoping there would be a sign of Jeff. The sun was just rising.

Bogg kept running through anything that might have happened in his head. Where could the child have gone, and why wouldn't he come back to the room? Again, Bogg knew he couldn't be seriously injured. Headquarters monitored for that, and especially closely for Jeff, Bogg knew. But could he have a broken leg or some other injury that wouldn't show up as life-threatening? What if he was in pain lying somewhere in one of these side streets, vulnerable to anyone?

"OK, I need to stop. It's Jeffrey. He probably found the red light and decided to fix it himself. So, if – when – I find him, safe and sound, I can breathe a huge sigh of relief," He thought ruefully and chuckled to himself. "Then I'll kill him for scaring me to death."

Phineas continued to ask passers-by and neighborhood storekeepers if they'd seen the boy, but again, 12-year-old boys didn't make much impression. He came upon a burly man who was boarding up a window that clearly had broken recently. Bogg leaned out to help the man place a board. The man nodded his thanks as he nailed it into place.

Bogg asked if he'd seen a boy matching Jeff's description.

"I did, indeed!" the man yelled. "He and another disreputable boy were the ones to break this window. Is he with you? Because maybe then there's some hope of me getting payment. Got good cuffs in on both of them, but I would rather have the cash to repair this."

Phineas dug his nails into his palms. He was infuriated thinking of this huge man hitting his kid. But punching the man for the common practice of smacking children in this era would be more likely to get him to a local jail cell than to Jeffrey.

"I'll certainly talk about compensation, but for now I was hoping you could help me find my boy?" Bogg said. "Did you see where he went?"

"Some woman came along, said she'd take care of them," the man said. "From Middle something or other. I don't know. I was just glad that trash was cleared off the streets. These boys are terrors, the lot of them. Damaging property, scaring people."

Bogg bit back the angry retort he wanted to make. Calling any children trash was a horrible thing, and this man calling his kid trash was infuriating. But he was certain that the callous attitude toward children in this rough area of town was not the red light. That history, sadly, seemed about right to Bogg.

"Thank you. That gives me a start," Bogg said instead and began to walk off.

"What about my window?" the man yelled after him.

"I'll get back to you once I find the kid," Bogg said.

"Likely story. No wonder the boy is a hooligan," the man muttered.


	11. Chapter 11

May 25, 1910, Middlemore House, Bristol, England

As promised, Jeffrey was allowed to see Archie the next day, and he gave the boy a quick hug as they sat down to breakfast. Again, Jeff was pleased to see it wasn't an orphanage of his nightmares. They sat to a simple meal of dark bread and porridge, but there was fresh butter and sufficient to eat. None of it was rancid or horrible.

Nonetheless, it didn't excuse the complete disregard for the boys' lives. Neither deserved to be ripped from the familiar in this way, and Jeff had to think of a solution.

Archie looked up at him.

"I need to get back to my mam, you know," the child whispered. "She is sad so much. She needs me there to cheer her. My dad is away right now, and she needs me there more for that."

Jeff nodded. "I'm sure she does," he said, thinking of his own mother. She would have been in hysterics if he'd been missing overnight, he knew. He thought guiltily that Bogg might be doing only somewhat better and recalled the look on the man's face as he described the loss of his family. "We'll get you home, somehow. For now, you should eat something."

The small boy nodded and gave Jeff a smile that could light a room. It seemed familiar, like watching the late show with his parents. And suddenly, Jeff placed the name. Archie Leach was Cary Grant. At least he would be, if Jeffrey could keep the child from being shipped off to Canada. Jeff couldn't recall much about how Cary Grant ended up in America, but he knew that he was British until he did. That explained the red light, but it didn't help Jeff figure how to solve it.

Jeff looked around the room. It didn't have the feel of a prison, being relatively bright and cheerful, but it had the reality of people watching the doors. This wasn't going to be easy.

"Judy, Judy, Judy," he muttered to himself with a laugh. The boy looked at him curiously.

"Don't worry about it, just thinking out loud," Jeff said. "We'll figure this out. I'm sure of it."

Archie smiled and took a large bite out of the bread in front of him.

A matron approached. "It is time to finish up, boys. Chores and then lessons; those are the rules. You will learn. But no one here at Middlemore may dawdle."

"Archie, is it? This being Wednesday, it be our washing day, please strip all of the beds in the dormitory. Then you may help with the laundering."

"And Jeffrey, I believe I was told your name is, you may work in the stables. The grooms will give you guidance."

Jeffrey gave Archie a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder as they set off on their tasks. Jeff hoped that being outside might at least give him a hint as to how to get the two of them out of here.


	12. Chapter 12

May 25, 1910, Frogmore Street, Bristol, England

Bogg's first stop was a clothing store, where he found a suit that reflected the sensibilities of the era. He looked in a mirror for the first time in days and headed back to the hotel room. He clearly needed to clean up before going to agencies to determine what Middle…something "academy" might have taken his kid.

His eyes were red, his hair disheveled and his face unshaven. He would not make the impression he needed to make in order to find this place and get inside without looking the part. He hated the delay and every second spent in this room, where he couldn't help but glance at the empty cot and worry. But he was a Voyager, and he knew that planning would get him further than panic. He made himself presentable as quickly as possible and left the room looking like a turn-of-the-century gentleman.

He headed for a police station.

"Excuse, me, officer?" he said. "I'm wondering about a local institution. I believe it's Middle … something."

"Middlemore, yes, wonderful place taking on those children who would otherwise roam the streets and make trouble for the rest of us," the officer replied. "What is your interest? Have some work that needs doing? There are probably some local lads about who would not bring you the troubles likely from that lot."

"I was more considering benevolence, and, as you say, what could be better than keeping these rogues off the street?" Bogg said.

"Well, as you say, it is a help for us that Middlemore takes them on. I'd say a good whipping would do more to fix most of them, but Middlemore tries to make them suitable for work in Canada. I hear they try to talk families into just adopting the younger ones. Imagine taking one of that sort on!" the officer said. "But I figure if the sorry bunch is not here, they are not my problem. So more power to 'em, right?"

"Right," Bogg said, seething internally but knowing that this was a standard attitude for the time. "So, can you give me an address and directions?"

Bogg wondered at the man's description. The officer seemed to think that Middlemore was too easy on its charges, and Bogg hoped that was true. He'd seen terrible things done to children in the name of discipline, and he wanted to think Jeffrey was at least avoiding that.

He took the address and directions provided by the officer and headed for Middlemore. As he walked, he worked on his gentlemanly demeanor, as he wanted to strangle whomever it was who would dare take his kid. He knew that while Jeff might have once just declared himself an orphan that now he would have made it clear he was traveling with family.

With that thought, Bogg smiled for the first time in what seemed like days. He heard a small, broken voice say, "But I have a family. Don't you understand? It's you." And Bogg's heart swelled as much as the first time he'd heard it on the streets of Pittsburgh.

He'd find Jeffrey. He'd made and meant the promise when the odds were much worse.


	13. Chapter 13

May 25, 1910, Middlemore House, Bristol, England

Jeff had been pleased with the fresh butter in the morning, but he was paying for it now. His task, as the new boy, was mucking the cow stalls. Jeffrey wished he could just dig large trenches and handle this like Hercules, but he faced the reality of doing things the normal way. He felt smelly and tired within an hour, and there was a long way to go.

Still, he'd been through worse, and he kept an eye out for ways that might make it possible to get himself and Archie out of this place.

It was walled, but there were fewer actual guards out here. If you could sneak away from those supervising your work, it was possible to climb over.

Jeff, sighed, that was certainly true for him, but how would he get Archie over a wall that quickly? Jeff was bigger, and he'd been traveling as a Voyager for a year and a half; he was used to this. Archie, though, was a little kid. Jeff thought again of Bogg, who must face these sorts of decisions all the time. Jeff had never considered that Bogg had to weigh how Jeff could get through obstacles that the man's height and strength could carry him through effortlessly. Bogg always made him feel an equal, but in terms of brute strength or even just the advantage of height, that wasn't true.

Jeff was thinking about a lot of things he'd never realized about Bogg. He would try to be a better partner from now on, starting with not just leaving. It had seemed like a good idea the times he'd done it, but he was realizing it didn't make things easier. As he thought about it, Bogg might leave Jeff behind to face a dangerous situation, but he'd never just left without letting Jeff know, except with Cleopatra, and from Jeff's perspective, he'd returned almost immediately. There was the once in Pittsburgh, but even at that, Bogg left Jeff time to catch up before he omnied out without him. Jeffrey thought of the look on Bogg's face as he'd explained he was leaving. "Yeah, without you," Jeff recalled. But Jeff knew he couldn't mean it and remembered the warm embrace as they agreed they were family. It made him smile despite the situation, but then the guilt returned as he thought about Bogg needing to look for him.

"Stupid, Jones," he muttered to himself. "Really stupid."

Still, he knew that despite it all, Bogg would find him. Jeffrey suddenly grasped how much his guardian loved him, because there wasn't a doubt in his mind. The boy had struggled so hard to appreciate that attachment, but it all sunk in completely during this moment in a smelly barn. Jeff didn't need to prove himself or his worth or his value to voyaging. Bogg just loved him.


	14. Chapter 14

May 25, 1910, Middlemore House, Bristol, England

"OK," Jeff thought. "Regardless of good idea or bad idea, I've gotten myself here. There's a red light, and I have a kid to get out of here if I'm going to fix it."

He continued to work on the stall, as getting in trouble wouldn't help the situation. But he also looked to see what was around him. He saw a low point in the wall, one he might be able to hand Archie over with less trouble. And laundry certainly would be an outside job, so he watched the yard carefully.

There it was. The laundry had arrived and with it a small boy carrying an impossible number of sheets and pillowcases. Several matrons began to set up tubs, soap and scrub boards. The best chance, Jeff realized, would be when they hung things to dry, as Archie was too short to be of much help with that. In the meantime, Jeff kept at the stall, making sure he didn't call undue attention to himself.

It seemed to take forever, but the day had started early, so it was only mid-morning when the sheets were scrubbed and ready to be hung. The matrons turned, and Jeff swiftly moved toward Archie. He put his finger to his lips, warning the boy to be quiet, grabbed him by the arm and led him to the low point in the wall. They made it over with only a small amount of difficulty, as Jeff hoisted Archie over and then scaled the wall himself. They hit the street with a minimum of noise and began to move.

"Boy, Archie, is it? Bring me another sheet, please," said a plump, rosy-cheeked woman. "We've not got all day."

Turning, she found the boy gone. "Mrs. Roylett, Mrs. Roylett," she called, running for the main building. "That latest one seems to have gone missing."

Agatha Roylett frowned. "Well, he can't have gone far …" she thought for a moment and ran for the stables. "Oh, that other one, I should have known he'd be nothing but trouble."

She ran back to the main building to have the guards put out a search.

As they got over the wall, Jeff held on to Archie. "Now, let's get you home. We need to hurry. Run as fast as you can!"

Archie nodded and began to run. He was faster than Jeff had expected, which was a huge benefit in the situation. "Go as many back ways as you can think of," Jeff said. "But still quick ones, OK?"

Archie laughed. "I know just the way," and Jeff found himself following the smaller boy through a maze of alleys until they reached a modest but respectable house with a long garden. A woman was on the front step, looking haunted and worried. The boy ran toward her.

"Oh, mam, I'm sorry. So sorry, but …"

"Archibald Leach!" she cried, as she pulled him into her arms. "I want an explanation. But for now, I'm glad you're home. What were you thinking being gone overnight?"

"Mam, I …"

"I want no excuses Archie. We'll talk, but for now you get in the house and into your room."

"But … my friend, Jeffrey, he helped, and …"

"Any friend who had a hand in you staying out the night I don't want to meet," the woman said and gave a dark glare at Jeffrey.

"But … it wasn't like …" Archie began.

"I don't want to hear it," the woman said. "You, there, get away from my Archie."

Jeff shrugged. The green light would have to be his thanks on this one. He was fairly confident he'd gotten that, and that was plenty. Archie Leach would stay in England however long he was supposed to and go on to be one of the most famous movie stars of all time. Seeing his life, Jeff worried it wouldn't be an easy one despite all of that, but he still felt that things were back on track.

Now, he just wanted to get back to Bogg, whom he hoped wouldn't be quite as angry as Mrs. Leach even if he had every reason. And Jeff still wanted to see the omni confirm that green light.

He turned to head back to the Hatchet and the room he'd been sharing with Bogg when he felt a hand roughly grab his shoulder and spin him around so hard his neck hurt.

"Did you think you were going somewhere, lad?" said an angry voice. "Because it seems you hadn't finished your job when you left."

"I'm just going back to my father," Jeff said. "That's all. We're visiting Bristol."

"Now, that's not what Mrs. Roylett says," the large man in front of Jeff said. "You're to Middlemore and on to Canada eventually. God help the family that gets you, as you're clearly more trouble than you're worth. But you're not going to keep plaguing the streets of Bristol, that's for sure."

Jeff already felt a bruise starting to form on his shoulder but still moved to run. The man tackled him into the cobblestone street and threw the boy over a shoulder.

"Oh, you are a hellion, aren't you?" the man said. "Not sure why Mrs. Roylett even wants you back, but she sent me to find you and the little one. Where is he?"

"He's home. With his mother, where he belongs," Jeff mumbled, finding it hard to breathe with his ribs pressed against the man's shoulder.

"Well, isn't he the lucky one, then. Guess you'll be paying for both of you."

Jeff felt sore, tired and defeated, but he took confidence that despite it all, he'd gotten that green light. That was going to have to get him through the day.


	15. Chapter 15

May 25, 1910, Frogmore Street, Bristol, England

As Phineas approached Middlemore Home, he checked the omni. It was green now, and Bogg didn't know what to make of that. Could Jeff be back in the room? Maybe he was just worrying for nothing. Jeff was a smart kid, and …

And yet, Bogg still knew something was wrong, green light or no. Red lights and green lights might still be his job, but his priorities had shifted. A green light didn't mean Jeffrey was safe, and that was more important. Still, Bogg let himself have a moment of pride, as Jeffrey had clearly pulled off whatever needed to be done to fix history. He had quite a kid, better than he deserved. Now, to find him.

He introduced himself to the clerk and sat quietly as he waited for the lead matron, whom he was told would soon be available. The clerk assured him she would be interested in his inquires, as support for Middlemore was welcome and appreciated.

Bogg sat for a moment and then hearing a familiar noise ran past the clerk and up the stairs. It was the sound of leather hitting human flesh, and whether that was Jeff or not, Bogg wasn't going to let it continue. He burst into a room to see Jeffrey on a bed, his bare back being hit with a belt.

He grabbed the belt in mid-air and pulled the large man wielding it to his face.

"As bad as it would be to use that on someone your own size," Phineas spit. "This is worse. He's a kid."

A woman stepped forward.

"I assure you, sir, this is an unusual circumstance," she said. "The boy does not respond to ordinary discipline and continues to lie about his background and situation."

It was all Bogg could do not to slap her. "He's my kid, and he does just fine, thank you," he said. "He responds to reason and affection. Belts, well, I don't know. Never occurred to me to try that. I'm guessing no. How about you? Would you like it?"

Bogg raised the belt at her, watched her flinch and threw it to the ground.

"I wouldn't," he said. "Just get away from my kid."

"We had no reason to believe …"

"What he told you? Because I know he did," Bogg said as he gently lifted Jeffrey from the bed. There were a few welts, and the boy's shoulder was darkly bruised. Still, Bogg had seen him worse, and Jeff just grinned. "I knew you'd find me, Bogg. I'm OK, but I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to help and find the red light so you could get out of here."

"You found it, Jeffrey," Bogg said. "Green light. Good job, just promise you'll never do it again."

As Bogg set him down, Jeff grabbed his shirt and put it on. He thought of all of the kids who were supposed to be torn from their homes here and sent to Canada and wished he could stop more. But Bogg's lessons about history being full of tragedies and injustices were finally sinking in, and Jeff knew he couldn't change it. But he'd kept Archie Leach where he was supposed to be, and that was something, he supposed. Still, he wondered how many families had been separated.

As they walked back to the Hatchet, Jeff looked up at Bogg. "I really am sorry. I guess I worried you. I never thought about it before."

Phineas reached out to brush Jeff's curls. "You know, I'm glad of that. It means you still feel free to be a kid. You shouldn't worry about me. But you're growing up, and I'm proud of you."

Bogg knelt down to look into Jeff's eyes and give him a hug and saw the child's profound exhaustion.

"You know, you're not growing up so fast I can't carry you, though," he said. "You've had a rough day."

Jeff nodded and let Phineas lift him into his arms. He was asleep before they reached the inn.


	16. Chapter 16

Author's Notes

This is one that wanted to be written.

I had the sad scene at the start, as Phineas lost his wife and child and thought it might be a one off. The real danger and tragedy of childbirth in centuries before the 20th is often ignored, and I thought it was worth exploring. Women still die in childbirth all too frequently even in first-world countries, but it was absolutely commonplace in earlier eras and still is in too much of the world. Geoffrey, of course, is a common British name, and I thought it added some poignancy.

Then I thought it might be nice to explain to Jeffrey and looked for a city on the English coast where one might join a pirate crew. Bristol had that history.

The next information I found was that of the British "Home Children." And from about 1870 to 1940 (with the break for WWI), certain British homes did send children to Canada, Australia or New Zealand. Mostly homeless or orphans, I'm sure, but I'm also sure they probably didn't check as carefully as they might for relatives. Many of the Home Children went from Bristol.

Then I looked up famous inhabitants of Bristol. Cary Grant was the perfect age to be caught into this and did have a problematic childhood (although I did play a bit loose with the dates, while I know kids were still being sent up until 1914, I can't tell exactly when and from where. I know Bristol still had some kids going as late as 1912, which is why I picked the 1910 date.)

I had terribly dramatic scenes occur to me as I was writing, but they never seemed to fit. This was about relationship for Phineas and Jeff and a softer sort of tragedy for the Home Children. These kids were sent from their country and their homes with only minimal consideration for where they belonged. Older kids really might end up with families looking more for farm help than genuine adoptees. I didn't want to detract from how real that was by creating false angst. I think, perhaps from my journalism training, I write my stories backward. Here's your huge drama as a lead and then the impact. LOL.

Archie Leach really did wear short pants for a long time and play goalie, according to Cary Grant's autobiography.

The Hatchet is also a real place dating back to the 1600s, although I can't guarantee it still had rooms in 1910. It's currently a rather trendy bar from what I can tell. Its name does come from the lumberers who first frequented.

So, it just all fit together as I started to write and research.

I appreciate all the kind comments people have made on the story.


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